Conquest Hindered
by thewrook
Summary: Gabrielle, a freedom fighter, is released from her death sentence by Xena the Conqueror. She is determined to make Xena see reason, but uncovered secrets will challenge her perception of right and wrong.
1. One: Shadow and Stone

**Summary:** Gabrielle, an idealistic young woman from a country village, has been imprisoned for her criticism of the Conqueror's rule. When she is released and placed as a servant in the Keep, she finds herself with an opportunity to gain Xena's ear. She will soon discover that people are painted with minute detail, not broad strokes, and that even the unpredictable Conqueror has reasons behind her actions. As her beliefs butt heads with her emotions, she will face a difficult decision that could change more than one life, for better or for worse.

**Copyright Disclaimers:** Xena, Gabrielle, etc. were created by Rob Tapert and the crew at Renaissance Pictures. I don't claim to own them, or intend to profit from them in any way. Any characters in this story that weren't in the television series have been created by me.

**Warnings, etc:** This incarnation of Xena is known as the Conqueror. Puppies, rainbows, and cuteness are banned in her domain. Well, not really, but keep in mind that she's not a very nice woman, and has done some naughty deeds.

This story contains subtext/maintext. If the idea of an emotional and romantic bond between two women is not your thing, you probably won't enjoy this story (but you're welcome to read, with an open mind).

A HUGE thank you to my fabulous beta reader, MadeForTrapping, who has been a great help and has written several excellent stories. Check out her Merlin series!

* * *

**Chapter One: Shadow and Stone**

Gabrielle had become a shadow. In the darkness of her cell, things once corporeal lost their edge, and melted into the surrounding black gloom. In dreams, she imagined herself fading to invisibility like a chilled winter's breath, slipping under the door and into freedom. But then the dream would change, and become a landscape littered with crosses and the sightless eyes of the Conqueror's victims. Gabrielle knew it was only a matter of time before that nightmare became her reality—it was the Conqueror's justice.

When the bolts on the door drew back, Gabrielle squinted and covered her eyes as blinding light flooded the room. The sun had been a friend once, when she'd stood in the agora and spoken of freedom; now even the torchlight was a foe to her unaccustomed eyes.

"You might have to kick her around if you want a response," rumbled the jailer's voice, gruff and haggard. "She don't move much, jus' sits there. Mind's a bit addled, if you want my opinion."

"I don't," said another voice, this one unpleasantly familiar. With a mounting sense of dread, Gabrielle dropped her hands to her knees and pulled them against her chest. The figure in the doorway was nothing more than a silhouette, but as it stepped closer, the face became visible. The dark hair, strong cheekbones, and pale blue eyes of the Conqueror were unmistakable. "Gabrielle, isn't it?" The Conqueror's voice was a sleek, predatory purr, and her prisoner shivered in response. "You've been convicted of inciting rebellion. Do you still deny it?"

Gabrielle hesitated, and then answered in a hoarse voice. "I spoke. If that is a crime, then I am guilty. I give voice to the people, to the -"

"Tired, the hungry, those who are too afraid to speak for themselves, and on and on… yes, I've heard the same speech from a dozen of your predecessors. Is that your mission statement, or your confession?" Gabrielle hugged her knees closer, and said nothing. "I put your talkative friends on crosses. I could do the same to you, but it wouldn't make a difference. Alive or dead, the people will never hear you again."

Gabrielle lowered her face into her palms again, willing herself not to cry, and hating herself for her cowardice. _What did the others say, when their time came? Something brave. Something noble. They must have been courageous in death, as they were in life_. Damokles has been the first to die at the monster's hands. He was only sixteen summers old, yet he'd thought himself a grown man. Until him, the Resistance had been a primarily underground movement. Pamphlets were circulated to those who might have been interested, and plans for change had been made quietly. Then, Damokles chose to step into the agora and speak, to use his charisma and charm to deliver his message to the people. He'd said he had a man's purpose, and therefore he would have a man's courage; that there must be no more whispers, but a loud call for change. Three days later, he was sentenced to a public crucifixion.

"Luckily, you might still be useful to me," said the Conqueror. "Depending, of course."

_Me, useful?_ Gabrielle found the thought almost laughable. The ruler had all of Thrace and Macedonia beneath her boot, an army several legions large, and palace full of fine treasures. _What could I possible have to offer in comparison? _She swallowed, and took the bait. "Depending upon what?"

"You know a woman named Amarice." It was a definitive statement.

"She isn't in the Resistance," Gabrielle said, and then cringed as she hurriedly corrected herself, "There's no one in the Resistance by that name."

"But you know her, don't you. Is she a friend of yours?" Gabrielle pressed her lips together firmly. "Don't delude yourself into thinking you have options here, Gabrielle. I could make you beg for the mercy of the cross, but right now, I'm giving you a chance to use that eager tongue of yours without consequence."

Gabrielle hesitated. If she refused the Conqueror, she was as good as dead. Cooperation might gain her no more than a few listless days in her cell, but it might also buy her something better. _Nowhere to go but up_, she thought grimly.

"She's an acquaintance," she admitted grudgingly, and the Conqueror nodded.

"Good choice. We'll continue this conversation later, somewhere more comfortable. I'm sure you'd enjoy a reprieve from this filth."

When the door closed, Gabrielle became a shadow once more.

* * *

"She'll talk." Xena swept down the cellblock with her captain at her heels.

"What makes you think she'll speak truth?"

"She's on death row, Atreus. Everyone has a price. The weak want power and the powerful want wealth, but she just wants to stay alive. She's got nothing else to bargain with."

"But she hates you," he said bluntly. "She's an insurrectionist who wants to see you fall."

The Conqueror halted abruptly at the foot of the stairwell and grabbed Atreus by the collar, slamming him against the wall. "You know who else wants to see me fall?" She snarled. "The _loyal_ officer that took those maps out of the keep and sold them to the highest bidder! He was _your_ subordinate Atreus. You bring me the thief's head, or I'll cut yours off. You got that?"

Atreus managed a nod. "Yes, Conqueror." Xena's fist tightened around the material at his throat, and then unclenched. The captain let out a relieved sigh, and gingerly massaged his neck. Atreus had been with Xena since her earliest days, but when she was in a rage, there was no reprieve given for tenure.

"I want checkpoints at all the gates, and double the guard. I don't care if it's your own mother stepping out for some country air—nobody leaves this city without being searched."

"As you will." Atreus clapped his fist against his breastplate in salute, and then hurried off toward the barracks. Xena watched his departure with narrowed eyes, her jaw clenched in frustration. After a brief moment of pause, she climbed the rest of the stairs and headed for her chambers.

* * *

It was not a guard, but one of the serving women who came to retrieve Gabrielle. The maid was narrow as a sapling, with dusty hair that was graying at the temples, and hands made rough by seasons of labor. As soon as she stepped into the cell, she launched into a tirade about the state of Gabrielle's too-lean flesh and ragged clothing. It was intended more for the ears of the guard than the prisoner, but it stung nonetheless_. No one likes to be reminded how far they've fallen_,Gabrielle thought bitterly.

"Up you get," the woman urged, "And quickly, too. The Conqueror wants you at sundown, and you can hardly sit at her table clad in nothing but dirt and rags."

"At her table?" Gabrielle repeated, stretching the stiffness from her legs and following the woman out of the cell. The light made her squint.

"To dine, child."

Dining in the Conqueror's chambers, with no one for company but the Conqueror herself? It was rather like walking into a beast's lair unarmed, Gabrielle thought. If she died in there, no one would be the wiser. She swallowed, and forced herself to calm. Leaping to morbid conclusions wouldn't do any good for either her situation or her nerves. As a member of the Resistance, she wanted to make the Conqueror hear her. There was no better assurance of this than a private audience, and though the subject might not be of her choosing, it was an opportunity she could ill-afford to squander.

The maid, who said her name was Kora, led Gabrielle out of the dungeons and across a yard. It was little more than a barren patch of dirt used for sparring, but Gabrielle was sure she'd never smelled anything so wonderful as that open air—until she inhaled the scent of the kitchens, a tantalizing current of warmth and spice that chased away the chill in her bones. There were people everywhere she looked; some were carrying trays of roasted meats and vegetables, while others were hauling water. The throng of people was so thick that Gabrielle felt sure she would have been stampeded if not for her guide.

She was then taken to the servants' quarters to wash. Though the water was cold, she'd never experienced anything so cathartic. With a rough cloth, Gabrielle scrubbed away the dirt that streaked her skin, the sweat from her night terrors, the stench and the grime and the oily feel of the dungeons. Layer by layer, her imprisonment fell away, replaced by the scent of jasmine soap and pinkish, newborn skin. Gabrielle's old clothes were discarded, and she was given a new skirt and blouse, slightly worn but wonderfully soft.

When she was dressed, Kora gave her an appraising look, and nodded. "Good. Come along, child. Here, you take this tray, and I'll show you where to go. Speak honestly, and remember to show the Conqueror her due respect."

A few moments later, Gabrielle stood in front of the door to Xena's private chambers. Carefully, she balanced the tray across one arm and knocked on the door.

"Come in." Though the Conqueror's voice was muffled by heavy oak, it was no less intimidating. With a nervous swallow, the girl pushed open the door and stepped over the threshold. At first glance she didn't even see the woman who'd summoned her, as her eyes were too busy taking in the opulence of the room. The pillows and coverlets were dyed the deepest of blues, and tapestries of incredible detail hung periodically along the walls. A set of windows overlooked a private garden, and Gabrielle could smell the perfume of the roses growing below. _There's more wealth in this room than the whole of Potidaea._

"Not quite what you're accustomed to?" Gabrielle's eyes snapped back onto the Conqueror, who sat at the table with a few scrolls spread before her. The ruler chuckled softly. "It wouldn't have been my choice, but I didn't do the decorating. Bring that over here."

Gabrielle obeyed, setting the dinner tray down on the table, and then hovering uncertainly. Xena stared at her, and Gabrielle's cheeks began to burn when she realized what was expected. Humiliated, she knelt on the floor at the Conqueror's feet. Gabrielle had never fallen to her knees before anyone but the gods, and yet here she was, a victim to the very submission that she spoke against. Gabrielle didn't want to believe that anyone was truly evil, but the Conqueror was trying her philosophy.

"You hungry, Gabrielle?"

"Yes, Conqueror," she said quietly, trying to keep the shameful tremor from her voice.

The tray was set in front of her, and Gabrielle's stomach rumbled to life. She cast a hesitant glance at the dark-haired woman, who raised an eyebrow in challenge. After a diet composed entirely of stale bread and cement-thick porridge, the rich food seemed like a mirage. Her hand shook as she grasped a piece of fruit, and she sniffed it cautiously before taking a bite. It was so sweet to Gabrielle's unaccustomed tongue that it tasted like pure sugar, and she felt full after only a few mouthfuls.

"Now, let's talk about Amarice." The Conqueror reclined in her seat, watching her guest intently. "Who is she? What's her connection to the Resistance?"

"As I said, Conqueror, she's not one of us."

"But she has common purpose."

"I guess you could say so. She and I… we disagree with aspects of your rule, but we believe in different ways of righting them. Amarice thinks justice can only be found at the end of a sword. That's not the purpose of the Resistance."

"No?" Xena raised her eyebrows in amusement. "You want me deposed. How would you fight me, if not with weapons?"

"With words," Gabrielle said softly.

"Words?" The Conqueror laughed. "You might think idealism is a strength, Gabrielle, but words couldn't save your friends. They spoke until their last breath, and now they're dead. What victory do you see in that?"

Hot tears sprang to Gabrielle's eyes. "They're dead because you feared their voices. You just admitted it!"

"I fear nothing," Xena said flatly.

Gabrielle trembled with anger. She wouldn't let this woman turn her ideology into a lie. _Damokles' death was not a waste_, she thought furiously_. I won't let it be._

"Where can I find Amarice?" The Conqueror asked.

Gabrielle lifted her head and met the Conqueror's gaze. Despite her reddened and tearstained cheeks, her eyes were alight with defiance. "I won't be an accomplice in her murder."

"This isn't about morality." The dark-haired ruler leaned forward. "It's about security. She stole scrolls of a very sensitive nature, documents that could bring the armies of the south to our doorstep. If the Spartans come marching, it's not just me that will pay the price. It's you, and your rebel friends, and all the farmers outside the city walls. So I need you to tell me where she is."

The Conqueror's eyes were fixed on Gabrielle's, and she swallowed. Amarice wasn't exactly a friend, and if what Xena said was true, she had a duty to the kingdom. But how much could Gabrielle trust in the Conqueror's word? This was a woman who had systematically hunted down and executed her friends, belittled their deaths, and condemned Gabrielle herself to the cross. Maybe Xena was lying. Maybe she just wanted to eliminate another potential threat.

"Come on, Gabrielle" the Conqueror rumbled. "It's not my life that's at stake."

"I want your word that you're telling me the truth," Gabrielle said shakily. "That Amarice really did what you accused her of."

"You have it."

The girl took a steadying breath. "She doesn't live in the city, at least not permanently. I think it's the Amazon in her. Walls make her feel caged. She-"

"Did you say Amazon?"

Xena was on her feet in an instant, striding past Gabrielle and yanking the chamber door almost off its hinges.

"Guard! Find Captain Atreus and bring him here now!" As the soldier hastened to obey, the Conqueror began to pace, one hand habitually gripping the sword hilt at her waist. "Those documents had maps; battle plans for my march south, through Thessaly, right past the Amazon border. If I know their queen half as well as I think, that's a threat she won't take lying down. That's where your friend Amarice is headed, and I'm going after her." She eyed the open-mouthed Gabrielle, and then sneered. "You can come. We'll need someone to identify the body."


	2. Two: Beyond the Walls

Thank you to everyone who's read, reviewed, subscribed, and encouraged me. Continued thanks to my beta, MadeForTrappings. Slower chapter, but I hope you enjoy :)

* * *

**Chapter Two: Beyond the Walls**

The journey through northern Thessaly was an affair of unsettling silence. They departed beneath a pink dawn, and followed the path forged by the chariot of Helios. Gabrielle was reintroduced to a world of vivid color, and smells far more pleasant than the decay of the dungeon. But the trio's pace and distance were extreme for a novice such as she, and it was all Gabrielle could do to strangle the moans of pain when she dismounted each evening. After one full day, the stiffness in her legs made the slightest movement into a test of her pain tolerance. A few days ago, Gabrielle would have paid any price for a night in the open air. Now, all she wanted was a warm bed.

Her anger with the Conqueror persisted like warm embers; though the flame had been snuffed, the heat was still palpable. Gabrielle reluctantly admitted to herself that she'd made an easy pawn. She'd naively trusted the word of a woman who'd murdered her friends, because the threat of danger from the southern armies would be more damaging than her own guilt. But… _Amazons?_ Amarice spoke of them like a dying race—did they really count as an army? Gabrielle felt like a fool for letting the Conqueror take advantage of her logic like that. Xena's mission was surely one of revenge, and she herself had empowered it.

Yet, it was strange to observe the Conqueror beyond the walls of Pella. She had always seemed more legendary than human, and it was difficult to reconcile the lavish living quarters of the keep with the hard-nosed warrior who inhabited them. But when Xena shed the mantle of the throne, she transformed once more into the true Conqueror. Everything she did was habitual and efficient, honed by years of military routine. Gabrielle thought Xena was like a woman possessed—not solely by greed or power, as she'd once assumed—but by the demands of a warrior's self-discipline.

In the end, though, Gabrielle thought the Conqueror's sense of purpose was wasted on grim deeds. Xena had caused so much pain, and the deaths of the Resistance members only scratched the surface. What about the villages she destroyed while chasing power?_ What about father, who had to pay his taxes in hard labor?_ The Conqueror might seem more human beyond the city walls, but she was still a tyrant and murderer. New scenery wouldn't change what she'd done.

On the second evening, after they'd set up camp, Atreus stooped down next to Gabrielle and held out a flask. Judging by his rank and his somber tone, Gabrielle had assumed the captain to be a middle-aged veteran. She was surprised, therefore, by the soft expression in his eyes. An unsightly scar marred his right cheek, and unshaven stubble grew upon his jaw, but otherwise his features were smooth, youthful, and not unkind.

"What's in it?" Gabrielle asked, cautiously eyeing the vessel that Atreus was presenting.

"Something a little stronger than water. Saw you dismounting earlier, with your face all screwed up like someone stuck a knife in your belly." Gabrielle shot him a malevolent look, and the captain chuckled. "It's not a criticism, lass, just an observation. You go ahead and drink that. You'll feel better."

Gabrielle sighed and tilted the flask to her lips. The drink was strong, and she managed only a few sips before handing it back to Atreus. "Thank you," she managed to say through her grimace.

He laughed again, took a drink, and wiped his lips with the back of his hand. "We haven't met properly. Name's Atreus. I'm head of the Conqueror's personal guard."

"Her guard?" Gabrielle was surprised. "I didn't know she had one. I mean, I didn't think she'd _need_ one."

"There's not a warrior in Greece that could best the Conqueror in single combat. That's no idle boast, but assassins don't fight fair. They lurk behind drawn curtains, and strike when your back is turned. Even the best would be a fool not to employ a guard."

"Does she get many of those? Assassination attempts?"

Atreus shrugged. "A few. No more than others. Most politicians are nothing more than cowards, blessed with too much money and a hunger for more. It doesn't matter to them whether their rival is the Conqueror or Zeus himself. They see only the throne, not the one who sits on it."

Gabrielle considered this. "But the Conqueror killed a king for power, too. What makes her better than the rest?"

"One kind of death doesn't equal another. The Conqueror fought long and hard for what she's won. You may accuse her of many things, Gabrielle, and some of them probably true, but it can never be said that she gained anything through cowardice. She met King Tiberius with steel in the open field, not with a poisoned chalice."

"But the result is the same," she insisted. "It doesn't matter what the method is, someone still ends up dead because of another person's greed. There's no such thing as a just execution."

Atreus frowned, running fingers through his close-cropped hair. "You haven't seen what I've seen, lass. If some hired scum were to kill the Conqueror, it wouldn't just be an insult to her, but to all the men who died fighting beside her. The fields across Thrace are stained with their blood, and their only consolation in Tartarus is that their death bought success for the living."

"It doesn't seem like she cares about the bloodshed," Gabrielle pointed out. "She destroyed half the countryside during her campaign, and then robbed the rest of it with her taxes."

"You're very quick to judge her." Atreus twisted the top of the flask closed, and got to his feet. "There are the things about the Conqueror that she doesn't speak of. Sad things. Painful things. She did not become this person by accident."

"All I know is what she's done, and that speaks for itself."

Atreus gave her a sad little smile, before tucking the flask back into his belt. "I know what she's done for _me_. It speaks more softly, but it still has a voice. I hope you rest well tonight, Gabrielle. The road tomorrow is no easier." He inclined his head politely, and then moved away across the campsite.

Tired though she was, Gabrielle had trouble sleeping. She was puzzled by the words of this surprisingly articulate soldier. He seemed genuinely well intentioned, and she had difficulty imagining how he came to serve Xena in the first place. _What turned such a man down so violent a road? _She wondered if he had a family. Perhaps he left a wife behind each time he rode to battle, wondering about his fate. And what about the Conqueror? What kinsmen did she scorn when she took up the sword?

* * *

On the third day they turned inland, abandoning the rocky coast for the majesty of the Amazon valley. At the top of the last rise, the Conqueror brought the party to a halt. Ahead, the road curved out of sight beneath ancient pines. The valley exuded a feeling of permanence, unchanged by the politics and warfare of the surrounding country. It gave Gabrielle a strange feeling, as though even the quietest whisper would somehow be disrespectful.

"This way." The Conqueror turned her mount off the track, down a narrower path through the trees. Gabrielle and Atreus followed in single file. After a short distance, the foliage thinned, giving way to a small village. Dreary houses sagged under the weight of time, with warped doors and drooping corners. Whatever force preserved the surrounding forest, it clearly neglected this settlement.

"This is the last town before we reach Amazon territory. Atreus, you'll stay here. If you come any further, we'll really be trying Melosa's patience."

"Who's Melosa?" Gabrielle asked curiously.

"Their queen."

"I thought the Amazons had scattered? The way Amarice talked about them, it sounds like there are hardly any left."

"They've suffered their share of loss, but they're a proud people, and Melosa's a good leader. She's helped the Thessalian tribes put aside their differences and realize that there's strength in numbers. Fighting a united Amazon council isn't something I want to add to my military career, if I can avoid it."

Gabrielle was surprised to find no hint of anger in the Conqueror's words. For a tone so commonly laced with contempt, it was remarkably… _respectful_? She sensed a history between the two women.

"Conqueror." Atreus had been scanning the main road, a frown on his lips. "I don't like this. The place looks deserted."

Xena returned his dark look. "Let's find the inn."

The inn, it turned out, was a rather dilapidated looking building at the center of town. From the outside, there didn't appear to be much architectural difference between the attached stable and the house itself. Both were in dire need of repairs, and neither looked waterproof.

"Atreus, stay with the horses." The Conqueror dismounted. "Gabrielle, come with me." _Not letting me out of her sight_, Gabrielle noted.

She'd expected the tavern to be empty, but the innkeeper was sitting idly at the bar as if an empty house was nothing out of the ordinary.

"You got a room?"

"Lady, I got eight of 'em. Take your pick." For an instant, Gabrielle was shocked by the man's casual disrespect to the Conqueror. Then she realized that the Thracian army didn't have postings this far south. Here, Xena was just a traveler, like everybody else.

"How about some information?"

"That's harder to come by. Maybe for a bit o' coin…" The innkeeper grinned roguishly, and Gabrielle blinked, expecting to find him incapacitated on the floor when her eyes reopened. But he wasn't. Surprisingly, the Conqueror was smiling faintly back at him.

"Why not? I'm feeling generous today." She tossed a silver piece in the air, which he snatched up eagerly. "Where is everyone, and why aren't you with them?"

"Most of them cleared out of the valley yesterday. There've been a couple of Amazon sightings recently. Word is, they're gathering here, though folks aren't sure what for. Safest thing is to go away for a while, let the dust clear, but I'm not afraid of no Amazons. They haven't come up to the settlements in years. Don't see why they'd start now."

"Why indeed," The Conqueror muttered, sliding several more coins across the counter. "That's for the room, and feed for three horses."

"One room?" He looked from the dark-haired woman to Gabrielle, the corners of his mouth crinkling in amusement.

Xena's eyes narrowed. "For my friend outside. Find him one that doesn't leak."

"This will buy two nights. More than that, and he'll need to pay extra."

"Fine."

The innkeeper inclined his head sardonically, and then shuffled out from behind the counter and up the stairs. "Greedy son-of-a-bacchae," the Conqueror muttered, before gesturing for Gabrielle to follow her out of the tavern.

Once outside, the Conqueror rifled through her saddlebag and withdrew the water skin. "Here." She tossed it at Gabrielle, who fumbled it in surprise, but managed to grab the strap before it hit the ground. "This is where we go on alone. Come on." She turned and made for the forest, continuing on in the direction they'd come.

"Conqueror? Don't we need the horses?"

"You're really starting to annoy me, rebel," the Conqueror growled. She forged ahead without answering, and Gabrielle stumbled along at her heels.

* * *

Twilight came early to the valley. The surrounding hills cast long shadows, and everything beneath the canopy was colored with shifting hues of grey, green, and brown. Without the invasion of sunlight, it was impossible to tell whether the canopy was ten feet above her head, or ten yards. This vast dimness reminded Gabrielle rather unpleasantly of her stay in the Conqueror's dungeon.

"Conqueror?" She said softly, inwardly cursing the slight tremor in her voice.

"Keep up," The woman growled in response. It was far easier said than done. For every one of the Conqueror's easy, loping strides, Gabrielle had to take two or three to keep pace. She was used to the open fields of Potidaea and the stone streets of the city, not this Hades-be-damned, tree root infested underbrush. _How much further?_ She wanted to ask, but could find no way of wording it without sounding like a petulant child. The last thing she wanted to do was appear weak.

The Conqueror paused abruptly, and Gabrielle was just able to stop herself before crashing into the woman's back. "They're here," Xena said flatly.

"How—"

"Quiet!" The Conqueror hissed. She drew her sword, and then tossed it on the ground in front of her, just beyond reach. Her gaze was not on the lower foliage, but higher, darting among the distant branches. "Do as I do." Slowly, deliberately, she raised her hands above her head and clasped them together. Brows furrowed in confusion, Gabrielle mimicked her actions.

Suddenly, they were surrounded. Figures repelled down from the trees, dropping in a neat circle around the two intruders. Gabrielle gave a little cry of surprise as her breath caught in wonder. They were clad in the colors of the forest, a camouflage that let them come and go unseen. Bodices and bracers of finely tanned leather acted as armor, leaving legs and midriffs exposed. The lack of added bulk on their bodies must have allowed for more mobility in the trees, Gabrielle realized. All of them were heavily armed, though the weapons differed.

"Xena." A blonde, curly-haired woman stepped forward, and extended her blade. "How dare you use the Amazon symbol of peace, when it is clear that you bring war to our valley!"

"I assure you, that's not the case," Xena said coolly.

"No?" The Amazon snorted in disbelief. "You would call it peace? Cutting down villages, burning farms, enslaving women and children. That is your peace?"

"Look, Amazon, you got a problem with me? You can get in line. I need to talk to Melosa."

"This is our territory, Xena. You don't make demands here. The Queen will speak to you if she pleases. For now, you're under arrest for invading Amazon lands. I am Ephiny, the Queen's second in command. My sisters and I will escort you to our village, where you will await judgment."

"Fine," remarked the Conqueror, looking supremely unconcerned. Gabrielle, on the other hand, didn't think an arrest was something to be taken lightly. She swallowed nervously and looked toward the Conqueror for guidance.

"Hand over the rest of your weapons," Ephiny demanded. Xena withdrew a couple of knives and tossed them into a heap with her sword. "Hers too." The Amazon nodded at Gabrielle.

The Conqueror smirked. "Does she look like a warrior to you?"

"No," Ephiny admitted, turning her gaze on Gabrielle. "What is she, slave? Servant?"

"Something like that." The corners of Xena's lips twitched.

"Neither!" Gabrielle said angrily, but no one seemed to hear.

"Slavery has been outlawed on our lands. We have no obligation to uphold your customs, but she has come here uninvited, and for that, Melosa must pass judgment on her too. Move." Gabrielle was prodded in the back and flanked by a set of Amazon guards, one of whom took her by the arm and propelled her forward. Behind her, Xena received the same treatment.

Once again, Gabrielle was filled with regret. What had she gotten herself into, and what had she brought upon Amarice? With mounting dread, she was marched away beneath the trees.


	3. Three: A Temporary Freedom

I'm feeling hasty, but this might get some small revisions. Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Three: A Temporary Freedom**

The trek to the Amazon village was a lengthy one, and Gabrielle caught herself yawning along the way. As they walked, she had the disconcerting feeling of being watched. _There must be more of them in the trees_, she reasoned, and the occasional rustle of foliage seemed to confirm this suspicion. Her eyes sought out Xena's in the dark, but the woman's expression was just as aloof as it had been upon their arrest.

From the size of the crowd that met them in the village center, the rest of the Amazons had been forewarned of their arrival. They were gathered in a ring around the central fire, each of their faces hidden by a feathered mask. A few brave ones shouted jeers at the Conqueror, while the rest howled and hooted their approval of the capture. Still, Xena seemed to pay them no mind. Her gaze was fixed straight ahead, and Gabrielle followed it to find the object of the Conqueror's interests: the Amazon queen.

Melosa raised her hand and the shouting stopped at once, leaving deafening silence in its wake. Gabrielle's guard shoved her forward alongside Xena, and the two of them stood alone before the queen. The royal mask was drawn back, and the torchlight afforded a limited view of the queen's stern face and shrewd, dark eyes. They lingered on the blonde for a moment, before coming to rest upon the Conqueror. "Xena."

"Melosa," she replied evenly.

The Amazon queen came forward, and stopped just a few paces shy of her captives. "I must admit that I'm surprised by your arrival. I expected you to have an army at your back, and yet my scouts report nothing."

"That's because there's nothing to find. I don't want a war with the Amazons."

"No? I find that hard to believe, given the evidence."

"You have my maps," Xena agreed. "But you don't know _all _of my plans."

"We don't need to. Your path crosses our southern border, and that of our sister tribe. Whether you want a war or not, you'll get one. "

The Conqueror raised her eyebrows. "I think it would be in both of our interests to have a talk, then, don't you? At your earliest convenience, of course, but if I were you, I wouldn't wait. My army gets antsy when I'm gone too long." Xena smiled.

Melosa's frown deepened, and her jaw clenched. "I will speak with you," she conceded. "But not tonight. The moon is full, and this night is sacred for my people. You have already interrupted our rites, and I would not offend the Goddess by ignoring our customs."

"Oh, by all means," Xena said courteously, as though it was her permission to give. Now Gabrielle understood Melosa's sour expression. Even in hostile territory, the Conqueror managed to conjure power out of thin air. She took control of the conversation effortlessly, and Melosa bristled at this undermining of authority.

"I will not jail you like a common criminal, Xena. But know this: any attempt to bypass your guards will be seen as an act of aggression, and by extension, of war."

"Understood," the Conqueror confirmed.

Melosa gestured to her warriors, and Gabrielle found herself being steered away once more, this time without Xena. It was the first time they had been separated since leaving Pella, and Gabrielle felt a brief sense of anxiety rise in her chest. Over the past few days she had grown used to following the Conqueror's lead, and that realization alarmed her. Freedom was the most valuable thing she had left, and if her sense of independence began to waver, she might as well be back in the Conqueror's prison.

"You'll sleep here tonight," the Amazon guard informed her, ushering her inside one of the huts just beyond the village center. It looked well-inhabited, and the results of a hasty cleaning were evident: a swath of fabric spilling from a closed wooden chest, a pair of boots abandoned at the foot of the bed. It was a far cry from both the prison cell and the rudimentary camps of her journey, and Gabrielle loved it instantly.

"Thank you," she said softly. The woman gave a curt nod, and then exited, closing the door behind her.

Alone for the first time in days, Gabrielle lay down and cradled the back of her head in her hands. The Amazons were far from hedonistic in their lifestyle, and the bed wasn't much more than a stuffed bit of sacking, but it was the most comfortable thing she'd slept on in weeks. The music of the moon rituals swelled outside in a rhythmic drumbeat, but to her tired ears it sounded like a lullaby. Just as she succumbed to the impulse of sleep, the door of the hut creaked open.

"You snitched."

The voice itself startled Gabrielle more than the intrusion, and her eyes flew open to find Amarice glaring at her from the doorway. Her heart rose like bile, and lodged in her throat. "Amarice, I-"

"I can't believe you told her!"

"Amarice, please," Gabrielle begged. "Just let me explain."

"Explain? Explain how you sold us out to the Conqueror? I didn't think your righteous code included betrayal!"

Gabrielle was stunned into silence. She opened her mouth to respond, but only a small croaking sound came out. There was a shameful ring of truth to that accusation. "It's more complicated than that," she heard herself say, but Amarice merely snorted.

"Save it! I don't need any more of your peace-and-love centaur crap. Next time I'll know better than to trust someone who talks so much, but does so little." She retreated with one last sneer of disgust, and Gabrielle's eyes filled with tears. She hated this whole situation. She wished she'd never left Potidea, and most of all, that she'd never gotten mixed up with the Conqueror.

* * *

Gabrielle awoke in unfamiliar comfort. She felt a pleasant sense of warmth where sunlight fell across her body, spilling through chinks in wall. For a moment she was confused, convinced that she was still living some happy dream; but then she remembered the events of the previous night, and sat up with a disappointed groan. There was food on the table beside her bed, presumably placed there while she slept. She ate slowly, enjoying the privilege of leisure. Her mind was far from easy, however; the conversation with Amarice weighed heavily upon it.

After a time, Ephiny's curly head poked in through the doorway. "Finally awake," she observed.

Gabrielle nodded. "I know you could have just thrown me on the floor somewhere. This was very kind."

"It was the Queen's order. If it were my choice, I wouldn't have lodged you in my own hut."

"You live here?" Gabrielle asked in surprise. The furnishings certainly implied that this was more than a prison house, but it wasn't particularly decorative. She hadn't realized that she was sleeping in the home of a high-ranking woman. "Thank you." Her words held genuine gratitude.

Ephiny shrugged uncomfortably. A brief silence fell, during which they regarded each other uncertainly. Then the Amazon beckoned. "Come with me. You can stretch your legs."

They walked in silence beneath the midmorning sun. The air was warm, especially in the village center, where the foliage was thinnest. Last night it had been a place of ritual, but now it was a training yard. Warriors moved in unison, twirling staffs in their calloused palms to the rhythm of some inaudible beat. Theirs was a tireless dance, a display of grace that Gabrielle would never have associated with battle. Her eyes fell upon two women sparring with pairs of short staves, and she watched with interest.

"Chobos," Ephiny provided, following the path of Gabrielle's gaze. "They don't look like much, but they're strong enough to crack bone, if used properly."

"They must take a long time to master."

"Not for Amazons. We learn to use weapons at a young age. Staffs first, blades when we're older. Everything can be mastered with the right teaching."

Their pace around the edge of the yard was slow, and if the outing had a destination, Ephiny seemed in no hurry to get there. Once in a while they would pause and watch a drill progress. A group of teenagers, dismissed from their training, bounded happily toward the walking pair. When they crossed paths with Gabrielle, the laughter died from their lips and their eyes became cold. They hurried past, whispering and casting suspicious glances over their shoulders.

"I guess Amarice told everyone about me," Gabrielle lamented in their wake.

"Only the members of the council. If anyone else knows, it's by guessing. It's difficult for us to trust outsiders, let alone friends of the Conqueror."

"But I'm not her friend" Gabrielle protested. "I understand that Amarice is mad, and she has a right to be. But if she said I was the Conqueror's friend, she spoke out of anger, not truth."

"Then what's the truth?" Ephiny stared at her with a look that was more curious than accusatory. Gabrielle began to talk, desperate to give an explanation that would justify her decision. Before long, she was relating the entire story of her time in Pella: how she'd gone to the city a season ago, to protest the use of forced labor as a punishment for unpaid taxes; how she'd been contacted by a member of the Resistance, and began attending their meetings; how her speech had landed her in a prison cell; and finally, the conqueror's questions about the Amazon. Ephiny was a patient listener, and her expression softened as the tale unraveled.

"I did betray Amarice's trust, but I stand by my decision," Gabrielle concluded. "I know there's no love lost between the Conqueror and the Amazons, but a war wouldn't change anything. Her rule has already caused so much bloodshed. If someone doesn't walk away from the violence, it will never stop. I wish Amarice could understand that."

"You'd have more luck convincing a hydra out of its meal," Ephiny replied with a snort. "Amarice has a hot head, even for an Amazon. She'll need time to cool off, especially when she finds out that she's not allowed to kill anyone. Xena and Melosa have been talking for several hours. There might be a treaty by the end of the day, if the council agrees to it."

Gabrielle's face flooded with relief. "You think they'll make peace?"

"I'm almost certain of it," the Amazon confirmed.

"Thank you," she said to Ephiny with a smile. "For listening to me. Sometimes it seems like the louder I speak, the less people hear."

"Perhaps you might have more luck if you talked _with_ the people, instead of _to_ them. You've got good intentions, Gabrielle, though I can't say I completely agree with your philosophy. Don't worry about Amarice. She'll come around. She just needs time." Ephiny flashed a reassuring smile, and Gabrielle returned it. "Come on, let's get you back. They'll need me at the council."

The rest of the afternoon passed slowly for Gabrielle, who was left alone in the hut to wait for the council's outcome. She was used to solitary confinement by now, but that didn't make it any less boring. There was a staff leaning against the corner of the room, and out of desperation Gabrielle picked it up. It only took a few experimental twirls for her to realize that she wasn't cut out to be a warrior—her head attracted the end of the staff like some sort of wood magnet. With a sigh, she fell back upon the bed and lay with the sunlight falling across her chest. Slowly it waned, and shadows pooled around the edges of the hut. Night fell, and she could hear the distant hoot of an owl out for its nightly hunt. Eventually, the sound outside rose to a steady murmur of voices, and the door swung open.

"Are you just laying there in the dark?" Ephiny asked, amused. "You could've lit the candle."

"Oh… yeah. I guess I forgot." It was one of those privileges she had longed for when locked away in shadow. After so long without one, she truly had forgotten the luxury of light after dark.

"It doesn't matter. Come on, they're declaring the outcome of the treaty." She beckoned, and Gabrielle leapt to her feet excitedly.

"Did they agree to peace? What are the conditions? Did-"

"I didn't read the fine print, but we're about to find out."

There was a great crowd gathered in the yard, and the queens of the council were standing on a raised dais. Their beauty captivated Gabrielle, not in the shallower sense of the word—though many of them had fair features—but in the expressions of their body language. Each woman had dignity in her bearing, but humility in her eyes. Maybe it was fostered by years of tradition, or maybe it was innate, but to Gabrielle the Amazon leaders exuded a majesty that she'd only heard of in myths. The Conqueror stood among them, but for the first time her presence was diminished. She was one of a crowd.

"Amazons!" Melosa's voice cut through the clamor, and the crowd fell silent at once. "I hold a document of treaty, between the Amazons of Thessaly and the Conqueror of the Northern kingdoms. The terms are these: the Conqueror will cede those territories along the Macedonian border that were taken from us under the reign of her predecessor. In return, the Amazons pledge to uphold our territories against the southern kingdoms and, if necessary, grant the Conqueror's army safe passage long the edge of our lands. It is the will of the council. Do you approve?" The answer was a wordless roar, and she nodded solemnly. "Then it is done."

Xena walked forward from the midst of the assembled queens. As she and Melosa clasped arms to seal the deal, cheers began anew, and Gabrielle beamed with happiness. Things had turned out much better than she could have hoped for. She still felt bad about betraying Amarice's trust, but this was a far better end than a bloody battle.

For several hours, the Amazons feasted, danced, and gave exhibitions of their talents in single combat. Gabrielle found herself growing sleepy as she watched, a feeling exacerbated by the cup of heady wine she'd been given. Her eyelids fluttered. Suddenly, a low voice near her ear made her wide-awake.

"I don't know what you've been up to all day, and I don't care. Remember, Gabrielle: when we leave tomorrow, you're the same as any other slave or servant in my keep. You've earned your way out of prison, but you haven't earned your freedom."

Gabrielle shivered, and the night was suddenly cold.


	4. Four: A Familiar Face

This one's a little shorter, but the story should start moving along now. As always, thanks for reading.

* * *

**Chapter Four: A Familiar Face**

"Hey, wake up."

Gabrielle recoiled from a hard nudge to her arm, curling it defensively against her chest. She muttered something incoherent, and then pressed her face more snuggly into the pallet.

"Come on," urged the voice. "Time to work."

A soft cotton bundle landed on her head. She pulled it free from her tousled hair, and grudgingly lifted her head. "What's this?"

"Clothes," answered the scullion, apparently not one to waste words.

"It's still dark," Gabrielle observed. The chamber's only window was set high on the wall, but barely an outline could be seen of it, so dark was the night beyond. The other three pallets were already empty, and Gabrielle was the last to wake. Embarrassed, she surged to her feet and began stripping off her rumpled clothes.

"Soldiers wake up at dawn," came the impatient reply, "and they like their breakfast hot."

"We have to cook for the entire keep?"

"Barracks included. But if Kora's wise, she won't let you anywhere near the porridge. I bet you'd burn it all to char, if given the chance. I'm supposed to look after you today, make sure you don't ruin anything."

_What refreshing optimism_, Gabrielle thought dryly, struggling into the new skirt and pulling the ties tight about her waist. "It's Eris, isn't it?"

The girl nodded curtly. "No need to give your name. Kora's already told me." Eris was slightly shorter than Gabrielle and very spare, with narrow hips and a thin, bony face. There was an almost childlike sharpness in her eyes, but the rest of her features seemed weary and stretched, and her flat mouth incapable of mirth. She could have been any age.

Within a moment, Gabrielle was dressed. "Come on, then." Eris beckoned, and strode out of the room. The hall was long, and lined on both sides by small chambers, each of which housed four servants. Gabrielle later learned that the tenured workers received wages, while the remaining need was filled by purchased slaves. They were boarded with others of their status, and a guard kept watch over the slave quarters at the furthest end of the hall. It was from one of these rooms that Gabrielle now emerged, shaking off her slumber. Eris led her to the laundry, where she was left under the charge of the old maid who labored there.

Almost immediately, the woman took her hands and examined them, turning them over and rubbing them with her own calloused fingers. "Soft," she commented, with a hint of longing. "Smooth. But not for long, not if you're working here. I'll show you what to do."

The morning's work was to wash a batch of soldiers' liveries. It was painfully dull, but simple enough: a good soaking, a thorough scrub, and then off to the drying rack. After the midday meal, Gabrielle was charged with the task of delivering them back to the barracks. She trudged across the yard with the heaping basket, hardly able to see where she was going, her arms quavering with the effort. On her way out of the compound, however, she almost wished she still had the clothes to hide behind. The looks she garnered from the soldiers were far more than merely admiring, and she exited at a near trot in her haste to evade them.

The rest of the afternoon was spent hauling water and washing dishes. The back-and-forth treks from the well were tiring, and Gabrielle's back and shoulders began to ache from the strain of the heavy buckets. Every time she paused to rest, Eris appeared seemingly out of nowhere, with a disapproving frown and an impatient glare. To Gabrielle, it seemed that she had been apportioned an unfair number of tasks; apparently, it was the way of things to break in the new workers with excess rather than mercy. Finally, as the kitchen was cleared for the night and the rest of the servants trooped back to their quarters, Gabrielle was handed a tray and her final instructions.

"Bring this to the Conqueror," Eris instructed. "She takes her meals late. After that, you're dismissed."

_Of course_, Gabrielle thought with a sigh, _a fitting end to a terrible day_. Under the stern gaze of the scullion, she took the tray and retreated from the kitchen, heading for the stairs.

How different she felt now than the first time she'd gone to the Conqueror bearing food. She had been much weaker then, following her stay in the prison—not just from lack of nourishment, but also from the deterioration of her will. All she could focus on was gaining a reprieve from the loneliness and the dark, and her mind had been bent easily. This time, she was determined not to capitulate to whatever psychological trap the Conqueror might steer her into. She marched past the guards with her jaw set and her head held high.

The Conqueror was at her desk with a parchment unfurled in front of her. She seemed not to notice Gabrielle's entrance, and remained bent over the surface, writing in a neat, elegant script. Gabrielle set the tray down, and then stood uncertainly as she had before. This time, however, she would not kneel. For a long moment the only sound was the gentle scratch of the quill. Without pausing in her work, Xena spoke. "I'm sure you'd love to know what's on this parchment," she said mildly, "but you'll need a more subtle method of reconnaissance than stealing glances right under my nose."

Gabrielle's face flushed with indignation. "I wasn't reading it."

"Well, you'll forgive me for not trusting the word of a convicted criminal."

"Do you always just assume the worst about people?" Gabrielle snapped in response, furious at being branded with the same label as some common thief. Having opinions wasn't a crime, and sharing them shouldn't be, either.

Xena stopped, and glanced up with the barest hint of a smile. "Call me a cynic." When Gabrielle failed to respond, she waggled her fingers dismissively in the direction of the door.

With her cheeks still burning, Gabrielle stalked off down the hall. She supposed she ought to be grateful that the Conqueror didn't have her punished for insolence, or for being argumentative, or some other stupid reason. She'd never met anyone so frustrating in her life. It wasn't easy to look past the horrible things Xena had done, but Gabrielle had seen a glimmer of humanity in her, while they were away. Every time she tried to establish some civility between them, the Conqueror ripped it apart with a sharp comment. She was just so… _so insufferably pompous_!

Fuming, Gabrielle was caught unaware as someone snatched a handful of her blouse, dragging her into a niche in the wall behind a heavy tapestry. The palm over her mouth muffled her cry of distress, and she stomped hard on the foot of her captor, struggling to break free.

"Ow! Would you just… Gabrielle, stop! It's me!"

Her eyes went wide at the sound of the voice. It was one she hadn't heard in a year or more, and yet she recognized it instantly. She stopped trying to break the hold, and the grip on her arms slackened.

"Perdicus?" Her tone was uncertain, for she could see nothing. Two large, rough hands found hers in the darkness, and lifted them to rest upon a warm face. She felt gingerly, noting the round curve of his cheeks and the prominence of his brow. "It is you!" She threw her arms around him and pulled herself close, grateful beyond measure for a familiar face. Perdicus was a childhood friend; they'd grown up together in Potidaea, and their parents had once entertained the idea of a betrothal. The crop failure had rendered those plans impossible, and Gabrielle hadn't had any word from him since he left the village to seek better fortunes.

"Shh, not so loud," he cautioned, returning her embrace.

"I'm so glad to see you," Gabrielle breathed, laying her cheek against the smooth surface of his leather cuirass. "But what are you doing here?"

"I saw you this morning, taking laundry to the barracks. I almost shouted your name… what a fool I am. As soon as I saw you, I had to find you."

"But what are you doing _here_? In the Conqueror's keep?"

Her question was met with uncomfortable silence. Gabrielle pulled away. Frowning, she traced her fingers over the front of his uniform. "You've joined the army," she concluded sadly.

"Yes," Perdicus confirmed with a sigh. "I hardly had a choice, Gabrielle. I looked into apprenticing with a blacksmith, but there wouldn't have been any money to send home. Here I have a bunk, good meals, and steady wages. I send half of everything I earn back to my father, and I'm stationed here with the guard, so it's not as dangerous as it seems."

"I guess I never imagined you as a soldier." In truth, she never imagined him as anything other than a farm hand. Clearly, life had a way of changing people, and dashing expectations. Gabrielle had always thought she would travel one day, but never foresaw the road leading here, to Pella. Maybe it was the same for Perdicus.

"Neither did I," he admitted. "But this is the best place for me now. You, on the other hand…" His fingers brushed the softness of her cheek. "You don't belong here, and I'm going to get you out."

"How? There's a guard next to my door at night, and a patrol on the walls. Even if I get out of the keep, I'll be shot in the back before I've run ten paces."

"I'll figure something out, I just need time," Perdicus assured her.

"If it goes wrong, and they find out you've been helping me, they'll kill you."

"They won't find out. Do you remember that time at the spring festival when you wanted one of those honey cakes, and neither of us had any dinars?

"I remember that the vendor caught you trying to steal one." Gabrielle smiled at the memory, momentarily taken by nostalgia. "He hit you so hard with that broomstick, you couldn't sit comfortably for days. You were never very good at being devious."

"No, I wasn't, and I knew it; but I risked it anyway, because it was worth it just to see the smile on your face. I'm a lot smarter now than I was then, and a lot more resourceful. I can get you out, Gabrielle. I just need you to have faith in me."

Perdicus spoke so earnestly that she couldn't help but be moved by his words. "It seems I'm making a habit of endangering my friends," she said softly.

"I'd do it even if you said no."

"I know you would." Gabrielle smiled sadly. "But that won't ease my guilt if you get caught."

"Have faith," he repeated. With a sigh of unease, Gabrielle consented. She pressed close to Perdicus again, and he placed a gentle kiss upon her forehead. "I'll get you out. I promise. Go now." He lifted the edge of the tapestry and checked the corridor. Satisfied that it was empty, he gave Gabrielle a gentle shove. "Go on. I'll find you again in a few days time." She pattered down the hall with soft footsteps, feeling considerably lighter than she had that morning.


	5. Five: Uncovered Secrets

**Chapter Five: Uncovered Secrets**

A few days passed, and Gabrielle found herself staring at every guard and soldier she passed, wondering if it was Perdicus beneath the helm. It never was, of course, and each time a little pang of disappointment resounded in her chest. Now that she had seen him, she wanted to see him again, if for no other reason than the comfort of familiarity.

If not for the unceasing list of tasks to be done between sunup and sundown, Gabrielle might have gone mad with the frustration of waiting. Eris was always creeping somewhere in the vicinity, her frown barely restraining the slew of sharp words she held ready for occasions of failure. Gabrielle's muscles groaned with agony at everyone movement, but she learned to work through the stiffness. Her roommates assured her that the first week was the worst, and that her body would soon adjust to the demands of the labor.

She'd had been assigned the permanent task of delivering the Conqueror's evening meal. On the third night, Gabrielle heard voices coming from the suite as she approached. The guard at the doorway was noticeably absent, and had apparently been dismissed. Unable to help herself, she paused near the door and listened. There were two voices: the first was Xena's, and the second was an unfamiliar male.

"So you're telling me that a dozen trained soldiers were scared off by some villagers with pitchforks?" The Conqueror sounded extremely displeased.

"With respect, Conqueror, the situation was more complicated than that. They were prepared for our arrival, and they were armed. Three of my men were wounded, and they withdrew on my orders."

"On your orders?" There was a sound like a chair scraping against the flagstones, and the Conqueror's voice rose in a deep, dangerous timbre. From her hiding place, Gabrielle shivered in sympathy. "Let's be clear on one point, captain," the Conqueror stated. "Your orders are whatever I say they are. If I tell you to collect on the harvest in Potidaea, I expect you to do it."

Gabrielle's breath caught in her throat. _Potidaea? What was going there?_ The attitude at home had never been anything close to rebellious; with a few exceptions, the town did nothing to wrestle its fate from the hands of those with power. If warlords made demands, they were met fearfully. When the Conqueror's troops showed up to drag away debtors like her father, no one wanted to fight. Gabrielle herself had been held back by her mother's grip, her protests silenced by the collective terror that rendered everyone immobile. What could have happened to make those villagers rise against the Conqueror?

"… and if you can't handle that," Xena was saying, "I'll find someone who can. Get out of my sight, Corillius, and don't come back until you have good news to report."

Hastily, Gabrielle retreated, just barely making it around the corner before the door opened and the captain stalked out. He passed her without sparing a glance, for which she was grateful—the guilt of eavesdropping was probably written across her face. She took a few moments to compose herself, and then returned to the Conqueror's chambers.

Xena was sitting at her desk, her eyes unfocused. "You're late," she commented flatly as Gabrielle set the tray down.

"Forgive me, Conqueror," Gabrielle muttered, taking a sudden interest in the woven rug beneath her feet. Outside, it had begun to rain. The chamber's vast windows were shuttered against the weather, and as the fat raindrops beat against the wood, Gabrielle was reminded of the music of the Amazon rituals. Here, there was no such revelry. The ringing of steel in the training yard could break the quiet of the keep, but only during daylight; at night, a somber quiet descended on the halls, smothering any trace of laughter that might once have flourished.

Xena turned her luminous eyes upon her servant. "Kora rarely allows her charges to fall behind schedule. Guessing by the color of your cheeks, you were doing something you shouldn't have. Was it the wine cellar you broke into? Or maybe you were just spying."

_Gods! Nothing gets past with woman! _Gabrielle shifted uncomfortably. "I heard… voices," she admitted.

"I bet you heard words, too," Xena said with a dangerous smile. "Any that interested you?"

This was treacherous ground, and Gabrielle knew it; but a sense of recklessness had taken hold of her, birthed by the imminence of her escape. She squared her shoulders, and looked the Conqueror in the eye. "Yes. I'm from Potidaea."

For a moment the Conqueror looked surprised, but then the familiar mask of detachment stole over her features. "Oh?" She said, arching one eyebrow. "You'll be pleased to hear of your town's rebellion. I guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree."

"They wouldn't rebel if you'd stop punishing them for things they can't control." The words slipped out before Gabrielle could recall them, but she found that she had no desire to do so. "It isn't their fault that the harvest was poor," she continued heatedly. "We've had three seasons of drought, and people barely have enough to feed their families. There's nothing left for them to give you."

For a moment Xena was silent, perhaps surprised by the audacity of her servant. "You'd make a very poor politician, Gabrielle," she replied at last. "You have plenty of criticisms, but no practical solutions. My methods may be harsh, but they're for the good of the realm. It's simple: if the farmers don't produce, the city starves. I do what I must to prevent that."

"But the farmers don't see it that way. All they know is that the Conqueror's horseman sweep into their town and snatch every bit of grain from their pantries. They always get the punishment, but never the reward."

"The reward is a stable kingdom," Xena defended. "What do you think will happen if the markets run dry? We can afford a few dissatisfied farmers, but not a citywide panic. You called me a tyrant once, and you were quite right. Greece needs a firm hand, and that's what I provide." There was a tension in the Conqueror's voice, and Gabrielle could tell that she was practicing great restraint.

"What Greece needs is compassion!" She argued, unwilling to concede.

"Compassion? Is that what you think the Spartans are raised on? Coddling and compassion? No, they're bred to be hard, and they reap the benefits. Even Rome hasn't dared to step foot on the Peloponnese. The Spartans are a match for Pompey, maybe even for Caesar."

"And what about for you? You plan to march on them, don't you? And when you get there, what will you find? A disciplined army, a prosperous market; an entire generation of boys who can hardly remember their mothers' names, and never knew their sisters! All the power in the world means nothing, if it comes at the cost of love, and happiness."

"I have no use for those things."

Gabrielle stared at the Conqueror, and her eyes reflect pity, rather than anger. "If you really mean that, then I feel sorry for you," she said quietly.

The Conqueror's gaze smoldered, and she rose slowly to her feet, her fingers splayed wide and her knuckles white against the rich wood of the desk. "If you don't watch your tongue, I'll throw you right back in that cell where I found."

"Why don't you?" Gabrielle challenged. "You've had plenty of opportunities. If you really wanted to silence me, you wouldn't have waited this lo-."

"Get out!" The Conqueror snarled.

Gabrielle didn't wait to see what the woman would do next—there was a difference between defiance and suicide, she decided—and as the Conqueror advanced from behind the desk, Gabrielle turned and bolted. It was enough that she'd finally found a weak point in the Conqueror's seemingly impenetrable armor: Xena clearly didn't like being held accountable, especially when it came to her motives. Gabrielle was able to keep herself from running, but only just. The Conqueror had killed for less than words, and she wouldn't feel safe until she was on the other end of the keep. She arrived back at the kitchen, panting slightly, to find Eris eyeing her with distaste.

"What took you so long? And what's wrong with you? You're out of breath." Without waiting for an answer, she picked up another tray of food and thrust it toward Gabrielle. "Nevermind. Here, if you have so much energy, you can deliver this too.

Gabrielle flashed her a look of resentment as she accepted the platter. "Who's it for?"

"Don't worry about _who,_ just deliver it. Take the main stair down to the cellars, last door on the right. Tell the guards you're bringing food for the prisoner.

"Fine," Gabrielle said wearily, stumping back out the way she came.

"And I could do with less of your sass!" Eris called from behind, but Gabrielle ignored her. After a long day, and a draining encounter with the Conqueror, the last thing she needed was a reprimand from the scullery maid.

Gabrielle had never been down to the cellar before, and when she descended the stairs, she decided she wouldn't be sorry if she never visited it again. The corridor was narrow and airless, and the torches flickered sadly and threatened to extinguish. There was dampness in the air, as though water had seeped into the stones and refused to dry, leaving decades of mold in its wake. She knew that if she closed her eyes, she'd be back in the dark again, a shadow with nowhere to flee to. Fighting the dread that had laid dormant in her chest, she walked down the hall with purpose until she reached the last room.

"I have food for the prisoner." She repeated Eris' words, and held the tray out toward the guard. He scoffed at her, withdrew a key from his pocket, and fitted it to the lock.

"Bring it in yourself," he said gruffly, swinging open the hefty door. "Knock when you're done, and I'll let you out." With a sigh, Gabrielle obeyed.

The air within was warmer and drier, a result of the fireplace set into the far wall. The chamber was small but well furnished, with an ornate desk and a bearskin rug on the hearth. In the far corner, amidst a mound of silken pillows, a man was reclining with the back of his head cradled in his hands. At the sound of her entrance, he sat up.

"Who are you?" The sound of his voice was not that of an adult, but rather a boy, and it was full of hostility.

"I've brought you some food," Gabrielle said calmly, stepping closer until she was able to discern his features. His eyes were pale like the water from a clear spring, and partially obscured by a creeping tangle of dark blond hair. He had a solemn mouth, and the corners of it twitched suspiciously as Gabrielle drew closer.

"You didn't answer the question," he reminded, his tone accusatory.

_Two could play at that game,_ Gabrielle decided. "You first."

"Nobody important."

"In that case, we already have something in common," she informed him, "because neither am I."

"Fine," he sneered. "You've done your job, now leave me alone."

Gabrielle was very tempted to do just that; but her curiosity was more compelling than her desire to leave. _Who was this boy, and why was he being kept under arrest?_ She decided that if she wanted to get any answers from him, she would have to provide some of her own. This was a game, the rules of which she'd become very familiar with. "My name is Gabrielle," she offered.

"Good for you. I don't even have one. Not a good one, anyway."

"A name can't be bad," Gabrielle countered. "It's the person that gives it virtue." The boy didn't answer. Her just shrugged, and stared at the floor. "Are you hungry?" Gabrielle asked, indicating the food she carried.

"Not really." He shrugged again.

"Why are you down here?"

The boy's expression bordered on amusement for a moment, before deepening into a frown. "You shouldn't ask questions," he replied despondently. "She doesn't like it."

"Who's she? The Conqueror?" A nod confirmed it. "She won't know. Tell me your name, at least. I've told you mine."

"Kyros."

"That's a fine one. Fit for a lord, or a leader of men."

He snorted derisively. "Some lord I am, rotting away in the bowels of my own castle." He stood abruptly and turned away from her, pacing toward the fire. "You shouldn't be here. She doesn't like it when people talk to me, and if she finds out, you'll get in trouble."

"I'm not afraid of her," Gabrielle lied. "Let's make a deal: I'll visit you again tomorrow, and when I come, you'll tell me why the Conqueror is keeping you here. Alright?"

Kyros considered it. "Alright," he agreed. "But I did warn you. She won't like it."

"You let _me_ worry about that, and get some rest. I don't want you falling asleep when I get back." She gave him a parting smile, and then knocked heavily on the door. The guard gave her a disapproving look as she left, but she paid him no mind. He could go to Tartarus for all she cared, and take the Conqueror with him.


	6. Six: Now We're Getting Somewhere

Thanks for all of the reviews on the previous chapter! They were really encouraging :) I apologize for the wait, and that this chapter is somewhat shorter. I should have the next update much more quickly. I thought the title for this one was appropriate... enjoy.

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**Chapter Six: Now We're Getting Somewhere**

The following evening, Gabrielle hadn't yet found her chance to return to Kyros. She'd been kept busy peeling vegetables for the evening meal—apparently, she'd performed well enough to be trusted with the handling of actual food. After completing the task, she went outside to the well for a drink of fresh water.

"There you are." Eris's voice broke through the tranquility of the moment, and Gabrielle closed her eyes, searching inside herself for patience. "The Conqueror wants her meal early, and she's specifically requested that you deliver it."

"Now?"

"No, after tea time tomorrow," Eris replied sarcastically. "_Yes,_ now! She doesn't usually ask for anyone by name, unless they've displeased her. I don't know what you've done, but you better pray to every god on Olympus that you haven't made her angry. She didn't become the Conqueror by showing mercy."

As she walked to the Conqueror's chambers, dinner tray in hand, Gabrielle did her best to keep the tremor from her stride. Surely, she thought, she was about to receive punishment for her outspokenness of the day before. Calling out the Conqueror was a risk she'd been willing to take then, and she must do her best to accept the consequences with courage. She hated this plague of weakness; every time she took a stand, she subsequently questioned her decision. How was she supposed to be brave, while fear gnawed at her so relentlessly? Perhaps that was just part of the duality of life: there was no bravery without fear.

The Conqueror's voice admitted her, and Gabrielle's apprehension peaked. She forced herself to cross the chamber and set the tray down as she always did. She held her head aloft, fighting the weight of her anxiety.

"Sit down." It was an order, not a request. The Conqueror indicated the opposite chair, and Gabrielle sank into it. Surprisingly, Xena did not sit, but strode across to the great windows overlooking the courtyard. Without facing her audience, she began to speak.

"You asked me yesterday why I didn't just punish you and have done with it. I have allowed liberties in your behavior towards me that are not otherwise acceptable. But don't mistake my leniency for a false sense of privilege, Gabrielle." She paused to contemplate her next words. "I'll admit that you arouse a certain… curiosity in me."

"Curiosity?" Gabrielle repeated.

"Amusement, perhaps." Xena turned from the window and paced forward, her gait formal and her hands clasped behind her back. "Most people in this keep are ready to lick the dirt from my boots if they think it will gain them any small amount of favor. You, on the other hand, are more likely to sling mud on them." Gabrielle had enough good sense to blush appropriately at this comment. The Conqueror was looking at her now, and after a moment of pause, she slid into the chair opposite her fair-haired servant. "For someone who usually can't keep her mouth shut, you're being awfully quiet."

"I thought that's what you wanted," Gabrielle said in confusion. "Didn't you summon me here to chastise me?"

"I rarely grant servants an audience. You shouldn't squander it."

"I'm not sure what you're saying, Conqueror." She was beginning to feel agitated. Why did everything have to be a riddle game?

"I'm saying that you have a rare opportunity here," Xena advised. "You wanted to talk? Talk."

Gabrielle was taken aback by the invitation. Perhaps it was a trap, some sort of veiled interrogation. Then again, subtlety didn't seem to be part of the Conqueror's repertoire. "About what?" She asked cautiously.

The Conqueror shrugged. "You were very critical of my taxation policy. If you have a better idea about how to collect food and funds for the city, now's your chance to voice it."

"That's it?" Gabrielle asked skeptically. "Just like that? You spend all this time and effort trying to destroy the Resistance—hunting down the members, jailing them, killing them-and now you want to hear what we have to say?"

"I want to hear what _you _have to say." She replied, with delicate emphasis.

"Why?"

"Because I know you won't just agree with me for your own benefit. Like I said, I have an army full of ass-kissers. If all I want is affirmation, I don't have to look farther than the nearest tongue-tied lieutenant. You're different. Annoying as Hades, but at least you have your own mind."

Gabrielle decided to take this mixture of criticism and praise as a compliment. "So you really want my opinion?"

Xena shrugged. "Frankly, I don't give two dinars what some farmer from Potidaea thinks of my political strategy, so don't expect me to change my ways based on your recommendations. But you're welcome to give them anyway. Maybe then you'll be satisfied, and stop spewing them at me unasked for."

"Well, alright," Gabrielle consented. She declined Xena's offer of food or drink, and launched immediately into her perspective on the issue. The Conqueror sipped her wine as she listened, her expression unreadable. As the minutes passed, her face paled. It looked unnatural upon her tanned skin, and the contrast was enough for Gabrielle to notice, despite her vigorous oration.

"Conqueror?"

"Hm?" The rise and fall of Xena's chest was exaggerated; her breathing seemed labored.

"Are you alright?" Gabrielle asked, frowning.

"I'm fine Gabrielle. Go on."

"Well, as I was saying, if you want the wild horse to follow you, you can't just beat him with a stick. You've got to temp him with a carrot… Conqueror, are you sure-?" She never finished her sentence. The wine goblet fell from Xena's hand and clattered upon the tabletop. On pure instinct, Gabrielle vaulted from her chair and managed to catch the Conqueror before she hit the floor, lowering her the rest of the way.

"I'm going to get the guards."

"No!" Xena's hand shot out and snagged Gabrielle's wrist. "No... Tell one of them to find Atreus, and bring him here. You go get the healer. Quietly... don't cause a panic." Her voice had fallen to a raspy whisper, and she struggled to breath as her throat constricted.

Gabrielle tugged her arm free and stumbled toward the door. _Don't cause a panic?_ This hardly seemed the time to be keeping up some stupid 'strong warrior' facade. As calmly as she could, she sent the guard to find his captain, and began her own search for the healer. He was tending to a patient when Gabrielle skidded into the room, red-faced and winded. As soon as she began babbling, he gathered some supplies into a basket and led the way back to the Conqueror's chamber. Atreus was already there, and he stopped Gabrielle just inside the door.

"What's wrong with her?" she asked anxiously.

"The coward's weapon," Atreus replied, his expression grim. "Poison."

"Poison?" Gabrielle put together the pieces. "Poison… the wine. Gods!"

"It's best if you leave. You did the right thing, getting the healer. He'll care for her now."

"But-" Gabrielle tried to push past him, but the captain caught her squarely by the shoulders, and gave her a gentle shove.

"Go on now, lass. There's nothing else to be done."

Gabrielle returned to the slave's quarters feeling anxious and confused. It surprised her how much the entire scenario had worried her. Why should she care if the Conqueror lived or died? In many ways, it would be no more than Xena deserved. But as Gabrielle had told Atreus, she didn't support wanton slaying, no matter the victim. It wasn't the attempted murder that unsettled her, however, so much as her own reaction, her concern. Without even thinking, she had rushed to Xena's aid. That wasn't the sort of behavior that a slave should have toward the woman who'd jailed her.

Her roommates returned from the kitchens soon after, all of then too tired to chat. That was fine by Gabrielle; she wasn't in the mood for talking. Long after the breathing of the other women had settled into the rhythm of sleep, she lay awake, replaying the events of the evening in her mind's eye.

Some time later, a shadow fell across the threshold, and a figured was framed in the doorway. It was Atreus, gesturing for her to follow. She rose silently and slipped into the hall.

"Is she…?"

"Still alive," Atreus confirmed. "It takes more than that to kill the Conqueror. She just woke up, and now she's asking for you."

"For me?" Gabrielle was surprised. She didn't think she ranked that high on the list of people to talk to after a near-death experience.

She entered the chamber alone. Most of the candles had burned out, leaving only a faint glow near the bed. She approached tentatively, not wanting to startle the Conqueror out of her slumber. She didn't know yet how delicate Xena's condition was.

"Afraid you'll wake the dead?" The Conqueror's voice was dry, but her characteristic wit hadn't suffered any. "Come closer. That damn healer all but tethered me to the mattress."

Gabrielle obliged, kneeling down next to the bed. "Do you know who did it?"

"You, according to the healer."

"Me?" Gabrielle gaped. "That's ridiculous."

"You were the only other person in the room at the time, and I turned my back on you. You could have put the poison in then, or before you even brought it in. You refused to drink any of it, maybe because you knew it was poisoned."

"But that's… that's so… why would I-?" she sputtered, trying and failing to make coherent sentences out of her indignation.

"Hey," Xena cut in, "I didn't say I believed him. Atreus vouched for you. He said you didn't seem like the type. You value life too much."

"And what do you think?"

"I think if you wanted me dead, you'd have stood there and let the poison do its job."

Their eyes met, studying each other. Gabrielle nodded slowly. "I don't believe in assassination as a political tool. That's why Amarice and I don't see eye to eye."

"You're terribly naïve, Gabrielle."

"I'd rather be naïve than full of bloodlust," she retorted. Xena didn't reply, and Gabrielle let the conversation die. She knelt there for a moment, studying the pallid face, the slumped posture that was so alien to the Conqueror's normal demeanor. When the eyelids fell closed, Gabrielle got to her feet, intending to leave.

"Pull that blanket up before you go, would you?"

She paused. "Was that an order, or a request?"

"Both," the Conqueror mumbled. Gabrielle smiled faintly, and did as she was asked.


	7. Seven: Best Laid Plans

Wow! Thank you for the kind reviews you all left on the last chapter. The feedback means so much to me. I'm always open to constructive criticisms as well as compliments ;) Please let me know if this chapter is a confusing read. Thanks for your patience on the update!

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**Chapter 7: Best Laid Plans**

The next morning, Gabrielle was slightly alarmed to find Atreus waiting outside of her room.

"Come with me," he instructed.

Gabrielle hesitated. "What about my duties?" She gestured toward the trio of slaves who were crossing the threshold, destined for the kitchens and the morning's chores. Their heads were lowered politely as they passed, but Gabrielle knew they were listening to the exchange with secret interest

"You have new ones," the captain replied simply. There was no further explanation, and he turned off down the corridor, apparently expecting her to follow.

With a heavy sigh, Gabrielle trailed after him. Atreus directed her back to the Conqueror's chambers, where Xena was awake and propped up by a mountain of pillows. Some of the color had returned to her cheeks, and though her expression was weary she looked much better than she had when Gabrielle left her the previous evening. She observed her servant's entrance with heavy-lidded eyes.

"I'll have Kora send up some of that tea, Conqueror," Atreus offered. "It would do well for your stomach."

"Stop fussing, Atreus," the Conqueror growled. "I'm not an invalid."

"I can see you're feeling better already!"

"Go to Tartarus."

"I've already been." He offered her a roguish grin. "I couldn't afford Charon's toll."

Gabrielle suppressed her grin with some effort, and Atreus winked at her conspiratorially. Xena, on the other hand, glared at her captain through narrowed eyes. She appeared on the verge of seizing the nearest weapon—an embroidered silk pillow—and tossing it at him as punishment for his cheek. Then, abruptly, she chuckled. Gabrielle had never seen the Conqueror display any sense of camaraderie or light-heartedness toward anyone, and could scarcely believe it now.

"Fine, then, I'll drink the gods-be-damned tea," the woman growled.

Still smiling, Atreus bowed with an overly extravagant sweep his hand, and then departed. When he was gone, the Conqueror closed her eyes with a sigh and settled back onto the bed. "Bring that chair over here, Gabrielle, and sit down."

The young woman did as she'd been bidden. "Have you need of me for something?" She asked tentatively.

"We never finished our conversation."

"Conqueror?" Gabrielle's eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"You were telling me about my failings as a leader. With some enjoyment, if I recall correctly, " Xena added. "Go on, then. I know you can't possibly have exhausted your criticisms yet, so why don't you pick up where you left off? I haven't got anything better to do than listen to your chatter, unfortunately."

"Well… alright." Gabrielle smiled softly, containing her glee. She felt like she was finally making progress with this seemingly unmovable woman. She resumed the argument she'd been outlining before the poisoning had occurred. The Conqueror's eyes remained closed, and once or twice Gabrielle called out to her gently, wondering if she'd fallen asleep.

"Keep going, Gabrielle," Xena would murmur. So Gabrielle talked, and the morning passed by more swiftly than any she'd experienced yet in the keep.

- 8 -

That evening, Gabrielle volunteered to bring the prisoner's meal down to the basement. Eris seemed surprised at the offer, but didn't question it, undoubtedly grateful that the burden was out of her hands. The guard seemed no more reluctant to admit Gabrielle than last time, and she slipped into the room to find Kyros at his desk.

For a long moment he remained slumped over his work, perhaps expecting the visitor to leave immediately after delivering his food. Respecting his silence, Gabrielle observed the practiced strokes of his quill and the little frown of concentration set upon his face. Slowly, he set the pen down and turned toward her. His eyes brightened when they took in her appearance, though he did not smile, and his lips retained their thin line of cultivated indifference.

"I didn't think you'd be back," he said.

Gabrielle came forward, smiling softly. "I told you I would," she reminded him.

"You said you'd visit yesterday, but you didn't. I should have known better than to expect it." Gabrielle's smile fell, and the bitterness in the boy's voice pained her. It was clear that Kyros knew a great deal of disappointment and neglect. He spoke like one who had been tempted by hope, only to have it denied him.

"I'm sorry. I did mean to come, but other things prevented it, things beyond my control. I am here now. I always keep my promises, when I'm able."

He stared at her for a moment, searching her eyes as if hunting for concealed deception. Then he nodded, apparently satisfied and willing to forgive. "What were you doing, then?"

"I was… doing errands, for the Conqueror," Gabrielle replied, feeling uneasy. In this instance, it was impossible and forbidden to tell him the truth.

"Oh," Kyros said dully, leaning back in his chair. "Well, I'm glad you've come. It's always quiet down here, and the guard never talks to me. Sometimes I want to throw things, and kick and shout, just to make noise. They'd think I'd gone mad. But I'm not mad," he added defensively, "and I don't care what they think of me, anyway."

"You're not mad," Gabrielle agreed soothingly. "You're lonely, that's all. Anyone would be. I'd like to know why you're down here, Kyros."

"Why?" He glanced up at her, his suspicion renewed. "I don't see why you'd care."

"You promised to tell me if I came back," she reminded him. "I kept my word, and now you have to keep yours."

After a little more haggling, the boy agreed. Lacking another chair, they settled upon the warm rug next to the fireplace. Gabrielle coaxed answers from Kyros between bites of his supper, and slowly she began to understand his captivity.

"It's the Conqueror," he told her. "When she overthrew King Tiberius, she ordered that I be hidden, and had me locked away down here. I don't even think she told her captains who I am—they never ask questions, anyway. They just do what she says. She didn't want anyone to know about me."

"But why?" Gabrielle asked, confused. She couldn't fathom why a mere boy would be of such importance to Xena.

He shrugged, pausing to chew the bit of meat he'd just bitten off. "She thinks I'm a threat to her, I guess. Not to her personally, of course, but to her throne. Tiberius was my sire."

"You're the King's heir?" Gabrielle resisted the urge to raise her voice, remembering the guard outside.

"His bastard," Kyros sneered. "He sired me, but he was never my father. He never saw me as anything more than a mistake, and he treated me just the same. What the Conqueror has done to me is nothing new—I've spent my whole life living as a ghost. No one's supposed to know about me."

"So she's afraid of you," Gabrielle said slowly. She understood now the need for secrecy, the need to keep this boy under careful guard. Legitimate or not, he had the King's blood. As the only survivor of the royal lineage, Kyros was the legal inheritor of the throne. If the masses found him out, they could start a movement to instate him on the throne. The Conqueror would be forced to either abdicate, or order her troops to march on the very citizens they claimed to protect. It was a precarious situation, best avoided by keeping Kyros in isolation.

"How old are you, Kyros?" Gabrielle asked softly.

"Thirteen summers."

"Thirteen," she repeated. _So young._ "And if you were free, what would you be doing, right now?"

"I don't know." He looked startled by the question. "I've never thought about it before. I've never been allowed to choose."

"Would you seek your father's crown?"

"I told you, he's not my father!" He stood up angrily, his cheeks flushed and his patience waning. "What's the point in talking about it? It doesn't matter what I want. It doesn't matter whether it's the King, the old scribe, or the Conqueror; I do what they tell me, or I get punished. That's it."

"It matters, Kyros. At least, it should. I want to help you, and if I'm going to do that, I need you to talk to me." The words were out of her mouth before she could even consider them, and there could be no taking them back. The boy opened his mouth, and then closed it, looking at her with a new light his eyes. "If I could get you out of here," Gabrielle began quietly, "Is there anywhere you could hide? Anyone you know, beyond the keep?"

Kyros shook his head. "When I was younger, I used to be allowed out. I'd go to the markets, and I had friends. But then it wasn't permitted anymore. They said it wasn't seemly for a boy of my birth to be playing with street urchins, but I think they just wanted to keep me here, so that no one would know about me. I had a tutor, and sometimes the stable master would let me help him tend the horses, but I don't know where he is now. When the King was killed, he and the tutor disappeared. Maybe they were killed too."

"We'll think of something."

"Gabrielle?" The boy's voice was newly tentative, and not a trace of his former hostility remained. He sounded for the first time like the child that he was.

"Yes?"

"Why are you helping me? I mean, I… I'm grateful. I like it when you visit. No one's ever bothered to talk to me like this before, ask me questions. Why now?"

"Because I know what freedom is," Gabrielle replied softly. "And so should you." Stiff from sitting so long, she rose to her feet gingerly. "I have to go now."

"When will you come back?" She could hear the pleading in his tone, and smiled.

"As soon as I can," she assured him. She rapped on the door, and the guard opened it. As the heavy wood was pulled closed once more, Gabrielle caught a last glimpse of Kyros, his head bowed, and the tangled mop of hair obscuring his eyes. Then the guard gave her a meaningful look, and she departed reluctantly.

On her way back to the slave's quarters, Perdicus found Gabrielle again at last. He drew her into a store cupboard so that they could speak openly without fear of being overheard. They embraced as soon as they were sealed within, a wordless gesture of relief and friendship.

"I have a plan," Perdicus informed her, barely able to keep the excitement from his voice. "A good one, I hope. Simple enough, but it will require a few preparations."

Gabrielle nodded, finding it difficult to match her friend's enthusiasm. Her mind was still on the boy she'd left in the dungeon, and her heart found it difficult to contemplate freedom when other such prisoners were denied it. He was only a child, after all, and no child should grow up in such extreme isolation.

"Gabrielle?" Perdicus frowned, searching her eyes.

"Hm? I'm sorry, what were you saying?"

"Are you alright? Did something happen?" His expression tightened. "I saw you leave the Conqueror's chambers earlier. Did she… did she hurt you, or…?"

"No," Gabrielle said hastily, offering him a reassuring smile. "No, I'm fine. Listen, Perdicus. I… I'm not ready to leave yet."

"Not ready? I don't understand. I've got it all worked out, I-"

"There's something I have to do first," she interrupted gently. "For… for a friend. I can't explain it to you, not yet. No one can know about it. I just need you to trust me." She looked up at her friend, begging him with her eyes to refrain from asking questions. It wasn't that she didn't trust Perdicus, but she needed to keep things neatly in hand while she figured out how to act.

After a long moment, Perdicus nodded, though his jaw was clenched and his expression frustrated. As she turned to go, he pleaded with her softly. "Please don't shut me out."

"I'm not," she assured him, a pang of guilt striking deep within her chest. "I'll explain everything to you, when I've got it figured out myself." He nodded reluctantly, and Gabrielle slipped back through the door, leaving her friend alone in the storeroom.


	8. Eight: All on the Table

At last, I had time to sit down and do a little writing! Hopefully there aren't too many errors in this chapter. The story is heading toward its end, so I hope you've enjoyed it!

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**Chapter Eight: All on the Table**

The Conqueror's summons came as no surprise to Gabrielle. Over the past few days she'd grown accustomed to Xena's newfound interest in her. She spent much of her time marching back and forth between the slave's quarters and the Conqueror's chambers, bearing everything from meals and laundry to messages. When these demands ceased for the evening, she'd make her way down to Kyros' cell and visit him for a while. Each time, it was obvious that the boy wished to inquire about plans for his freedom, but he held his tongue. Perhaps he knew there were no easy solutions, and that such a scheme would require time and careful planning. Unfortunately for them both, time was something that Gabrielle had very little of.

The chamber was empty when Gabrielle arrived. The windows on the far end of the room were slightly ajar, and the scent on the breeze was the sweetness of the gardens. It smelled of earth and sunshine, and for a moment Gabrielle was standing in a field of autumn wheat, her shoulders hot from the morning glare and a harvester's tune on her lips.

"Gabrielle?"

The Conqueror's voice at her back startled her from her fantasy. Without meaning to, Gabrielle had crossed the room and was now standing before the windows, staring down at the courtyard. She was struck by a pang of homesickness so severe that she could feel it in her chest, a tightness and a longing that she hadn't known in moons. Swallowing heavily, she forced it deeper into the recesses of her heart and turned away from the view.

"Conqueror."

Xena was staring at her with a strange look in her eyes, and it made Gabrielle uncomfortable.

"Follow me," the Conqueror ordered abruptly. She turned about so fast that she was halfway to the door before Gabrielle registered either the movement or the command. She trotted after the dark-haired ruler, letting the door close behind her.

At the end of the hall they descended a narrow, winding flight of stairs that Gabrielle had never noticed before. It was scarcely used, judging by the dust that coated the stone steps. At the bottom, Xena cracked open a heavy wooden door, and light spilled onto the landing. Beyond the threshold lay a walkway that was now more weed than stone, and the garden blossomed forth on either side, wild and untended.

"It's beautiful," Gabrielle breathed. She glanced hesitantly at the Conqueror. "May I?"

Xena's response was a short nod and a shrug of the shoulders, which Gabrielle took as a sign of permission. She picked a careful path amid the ruins of the courtyard, imagining it as it might have looked in its prime; the creeping ivy gone, the flora arranged in precise patterns, the footpaths straight and even. She liked it better as it was now, she decided. It looked mysterious somehow, a secret paradise amid the unyielding stone of the keep. In the center was a statue of Athena, presiding over a ruined fountain. It was ringed by four stone benches, and Gabrielle sat on the nearest of these. Wordlessly, the Conqueror sat next to her, perching on the edge of the seat with her long legs stretched out before her.

"Thank you, Conqueror."

Xena shrugged. "You saved my life," she said bluntly. "I would be remiss if I didn't offer you some kind of reward, however small."

"Do you walk here often?"

"Rarely. Theocoles, who was King before Tiberius, had it planted. He was a notoriously troubled sleeper. They say he passed many nights here, where he could see the stars. He hoped Athena might bring him guidance."

"There are worse ways to spend a night," Gabrielle commented, imagining what the garden must look like under a full moon, full of pale light and leafy shadows.

"More productive ones, too. That was his problem—he kept hoping some divine intervention would solve all his troubles. He had enough wits to do the job, but he wasted them all on foolish devotion."

"You place no faith in the gods?"

The Conqueror shrugged. "Relying on myself has gotten me a lot further than relying on the gods ever did. I didn't get all this-" she gestured to the surrounding walls, "by waiting around and hoping some deity would drop it in my lap."

"I guess not," Gabrielle agreed.

"A leader doesn't have the time to wait for prayers to be answered. If he looks around and sees that he can craft no victory from what he's already been given, then he creates. He forges new weapons, devises new strategies. Tiberius, like his father, didn't have the vision for that. He saw the people starving in the city, so he went to the temple and begged Demeter for aid. And while he sat there on his knees, humbling himself before the lifeless carving of a deity, the grain ran out and the people starved. Not because of what the gods didn't do, but because of what _he_ didn't do. You see? You think it cruel that I place so heavy a tax on the farmers' harvest. But what I do is better than inaction, than indifference."

Gabrielle could think of no adequate response. It was easy to hate the cold demeanor and the brutality of the Conqueror, but this Xena was almost a different woman. Hadn't Atreus hinted as much, that night on the way to the Amazons? _There are the things about the Conqueror that she doesn't speak of_, he'd said. _Sad things. Painful things. She did not become this person by accident._

"How did you become the Conqueror?"

Xena's expression was inscrutable. "How? That's fairly obvious, Gabrielle. I learned how to wield a sword better than my enemies, and then I cut them all down."

"But what made you choose that?"

"I didn't choose it," the Conqueror snapped, her glare sharpening. "I know what you're asking, and why you're asking it. You want there to be some profound truth, some noble reason why I am who I am. Right? You're wasting your time. I'm a bitch, and a murderer, and I had all of your Resistance friends killed because I can. That's all the motive there is."

"I don't believe you," Gabrielle said immediately. To hear her friends spoken of like that hurt, but she'd already shed her tears for them. "You can't sit there and speak of good intentions, and then pretend you have none! I don't believe that, not anymore."

"Do you think, because you've coaxed out a few sentences, that you know anything about me?"

"No," Gabrielle protested, but the Conqueror cut her off.

"Or maybe you're hoping that if I sit here long enough, the sun will make me transparent so you can look right through me, right down to the bone. Will you be satisfied, then? Will you like what you see?"

"I don't know," she said quietly.

"I do." The Conqueror stood. She had never seemed taller, more imposing, or more distant. "Stay here, Gabrielle. Enjoy a few more hours. As I said, it's your due."

She started to walk away, and as she turned her back Gabrielle was seized by desperation. She had come so close, so near to breaching that wall of stoic indifference, and now Xena was slipping away.

"Conqueror? I have a request."

The woman paused, and turned about slowly. "A request?" She repeated, raising her eyebrows in question.

"Yes. Well, you speak of rewards. I thought… I wondered…" Gabrielle's lips felt suddenly dry, and her heart shivered in her chest. "Well, I wondered if I might ask something of you."

"Go on."

"I would ask for freedom. Not for myself, but for Kyros."

Silence.

"Where did you hear that name?" The Conqueror's voice was sharper than Roman steel.

"From him." Gabrielle swallowed, forcing herself to meet the pale blue gaze despite her fear. "I've been delivering his meals for the last quarter of a moon."

"You're not to see him again."

"Please, Conqueror, Kyros is just a boy. He needs-"

In less than a heartbeat, the Conqueror had closed the gap between them and seized Gabrielle by the arms, pulling her to her feet. "Don't you ever speak that name again," she growled. Her hands clamped down like manacles, drawing a pained breath from the captive. She shoved Gabrielle backwards, and then turned away. "If you tell-" she paused. "If you tell, I'll kill you both."


	9. Nine: Departure

So here it is: the final chapter.

* * *

**Chapter 9: Departure**

"We have to go tomorrow," Perdicus told her. There was little enough room in the store cupboard that served as their meeting place, yet he still paced. In truth, it was more of an agitated shuffle.

"That's too soon," Gabrielle said at once. "I need more time."

"There isn't any left. The Conqueror has sent runners to the outposts. She's gathering all of her strength outside of the city. Three days from now, the army will be preparing to march south."

Gabrielle muttered a curse. It was her turn to pace. It seemed the walls of the keep were as isolating as any jail cell. They said that the Conqueror had eyes everywhere, and every one of them reported back to her in Pella. Yet Gabrielle lived and worked at the very foot of the throne, and remained blind. Did Potidaea still stand? Was the Resistance yet alive? She had no answers.

"And you?" She asked softly, turning her eyes upon Perdicus.

"I'm a soldier, Gabrielle. I march too."

The gravity of the situation filled the room like smoke, thick and hazy and stifling. _This is what you earn when you play with fire_, Gabrielle reflected. She had promised to help Kyros escape, and that could not be revoked. It was the right thing to do. The Conqueror's fear of the boy as a usurper would become self-fulfilling; if Xena continued to keep Kyros prisoner, his bitterness would grow and cultivate a desire for revenge. But if he were taken away, given life and freedom and time to heal, he would be no more dangerous than any freeborn citizen. He didn't want a throne—all he wanted was his boyhood. But to help Kyros would be treason; it would make Perdicus a traitor in the eyes of his brethren. It would make Gabrielle a fugitive of the Conqueror's justice. Strangely, above all of the risks, the thing that worried Gabrielle most was the idea of betraying a woman she had grudgingly come to respect.

"It has to be tomorrow," Perdicus repeated.

Gabrielle closed her eyes. "Alright. Tomorrow. But the city will already be crawling with guards. How will we hide ourselves?"

"In plain sight," he said with a smile.

* * *

Given the manner of their last parting, Gabrielle thought the Conqueror would request a different servant to deliver her evening meal. In fact, she was even hoping for it. It wasn't fear made her dread the encounter, but guilt.

"Conqueror," she said tonelessly, placing the food on the table and stepping back. She lowered her eyes, partly out of respect, and partly because she couldn't bring herself to meet Xena's gaze. When no acknowledgement came, she backed away and turned for the door.

"Wait."

She paused.

"Turn around, Gabrielle."

She turned around.

The Conqueror was looking at her with the same strange expression she had worn the previous afternoon. The dark brows were furrowed, and the eyes seemed to be searching for something elusive. Gabrielle realized with sudden clarity that Xena wasn't looking at _her_; she was questing inside of herself.

"I trust you've considered what I said yesterday." The woman leaned forward, resting her forearms against the table.

"I haven't forgotten your threat," Gabrielle replied stiffly.

"You have no idea what you've involved yourself in. I'm trying to protect you."

Her temper flared. "Protect me? Is that what you call it? I suppose when you had me jailed, you were just trying to keep me safe. And when you threatened to kill me, that was for protection. And I suppose you're just trying to protect Kyros too."

"I told you not to say that name!" The Conqueror snarled, rising from her chair. "You forget your place, slave."

The words stung. Since the poisoning, Xena had spoken to her with more respect for her intellect and opinions. Often, Gabrielle was able to forget the fact that she was little more than chattel. It only took one harsh word to bring that reality back to the fore of her mind.

"Forgive me, Conqueror." She dropped to her knees. As she knelt she caught the Conqueror's gaze and held it. "Not long ago, you asked me for my words. If you want my silence, you have but to ask again."

Xena stared for a long moment, her jaw clenched. Slowly she sank back into her chair, alleviating the intimidation of her height.

"Get up, Gabrielle." It was a command, though her voice had lost its angry edge. Gabrielle obeyed. There was still tension in the space between them, but it felt different now, less adversarial.

"Yesterday you asked how I became the Conqueror. Do you still want to know?"

"Yes." Gabrielle replied without hesitation.

"I lived in Thrace. When the marauders came to our town, the elders wanted to sue for peace. 'If we give them what they want, they'll leave,' they said. But we all knew it wouldn't end there. When they came again, there would be nothing left to bribe with. My brother Lyceus and I encouraged the rest of the town to fight, and when the army showed up, we surprised them and drove them back."

Gabrielle tried to imagine the woman as she must have been then: shorter maybe, with the hard planes of her face softened by youth, the eyes more trusting. It was Xena that she saw, in worn peasant skirts—not the Conqueror.

"But there was no victory," Xena went on. "Not for me. They killed Lyceus." She stood abruptly and turned away. It wasn't until she reached the window, staring out at the sky beyond, that she continued. "I found his body on the battlefield when it was over. He was dead, and it was my fault. He was He so young, and he never should have fought. He never should have picked up that sword. I encouraged him. I killed him."

"That's not true," Gabrielle said softly, but Xena ignored her.

"After that… my mother wouldn't have me under her roof. She blamed me. I was desperate to make things right again, so I rounded up anyone who would follow me, and I sought vengeance. I thought maybe if I killed Lyceus's murderer, it would hurt less. Maybe the pain would go away. I hunted down every warlord I could find in Thrace. I killed them, and won their men, and built my army."

She turned around again, and her eyes were glistening. "That's how I became the Conqueror."

"For vengeance," Gabrielle said softly. "For your brother. Because you loved him."

"Vengeance, control, power. Different words for the same goal. Are you satisfied with that answer?"

"I'm satisfied with the truth," Gabrielle answered humbly.

"Then ask no more from me." The Conqueror reclaimed her seat, and stared down at the large map spread before her. "I have answered your question, and now I will ask something of you in turn. My army will march south within a few days' time. I want your word that you will make no trouble while I'm gone."

Gabrielle swallowed, and stared at her feet.

"After all the leniency I've shown you, you owe me that much."

"I…" She swallowed again, and the words died on her lips. She must lie, she knew. She must stand here and promise good behavior, though she had already promised Kyros his freedom. It was easily done, yet her voice refused.

"Gabrielle." The Conqueror eyed her gravely. "Your word."

"You have my word," she managed at last, forcing herself to meet Xena's eyes. "I swear that I will cause no trouble in this keep, after you've left it." Her words were carefully chosen.

The ruler studied her for a moment longer, and then nodded. "Good. You may go."

* * *

A stub of a candle remained beside her bed. The wick had burned right down to the hot wax, and after a few feeble flickers, it burned out with a hiss. It would not be long now—sure enough, a figure darkened the doorway of the room. Gabrielle caught her breath and waited. There were three soft taps against the wall. She glanced around at the pallets of her roommates, but not one of them had stirred. Her lips parted to release the air she'd held in, and she slipped from her own bed, moving as quietly as she was able.

Perdicus waited for her in the corridor. He had taken the watch of another guard, so the hall was deserted but for the two of them. Slung across his shoulder was a heavy sack, and they would need its contents in order to pull off their plans. The first step was to get to Kyros.

They made their approach cautiously. Perdicus had neither torch nor candle to light the way, and Gabrielle clung to his arm as they descended the stairs. At the end of the narrow hallway a brazier burned, and the single guard stood watch in front of Kyros' chamber. When they approached, the man slid one hand to the pommel of his blade. Perdicus paused and clapped one fist against his cuirass in salute.

"What business do you have at this hour?" The guard challenged.

"Relieving you, brother," Perdicus replied with a chuckle.

"My watch isn't over."

"I'll take your watch. We got two good kegs of Athenian wine in the mess hall. Figured we might as well drain them before the damned cavalry arrives and drinks us dry."

"Athenian?" The guard repeated with interest, removing his hand from the weapon at his waist.

"Sweetest southern wine I've ever tasted," Perdicus confirmed. "Go on, before the lads find the bottom of the barrel." He slapped the guard amiably on the shoulder

The watchman hesitated. "What about the girl?" He jerked his head toward Gabrielle, and Perdicus grinned.

"A man needs a little company at night. Wine for you, and a woman for me."

The guard laughed, and started for the stairs. "I'll take the wine then." He was still laughing when the pommel of Perdicus's sword crashed against the back of his skull. He dropped to the floor like a lump of iron, and was silent.

After the brief search they found the key in the guard's belt, and unlocked the door to Kyros's chamber. Perdicus dragged the man in after them before closing the door.

"Gods," Kyros whispered, surveying the unconscious soldier. "We're really going then?"

"We're really going," Gabrielle confirmed. "Kyros, this is Perdicus. He's going to help us get out of the keep."

"Here." Perdicus lowered the satchel from his shoulder and dumped the contents on the table: two soldier's uniforms.

"Hiding in plain sight," Gabrielle whispered as a smile spread across her face.

"There are so many soldiers in the city—who would take notice of two more? You're tall for a boy, Kyros, and that's good. But, Gabrielle, I'm afraid… well, your hair. Even from a distance, you'll look…"

"Yes. I understand," she said quietly. "You'll have to cut it."

Perdicus nodded, and unsheathed the knife from his belt. Gabrielle sat down and closed her eyes as he gathered her hair in his fist. She was not one given to vanity, but there was a sudden weightless feeling as the long strands were cut away that made her squeeze her eyelids closed a little tighter. The knife slashed again and again, until her golden locks were gone, reduced to a boyish length that only just touched the back of her neck.

She felt odd as she dressed, lighter everywhere except for her heart. She donned the standard dark blue tunic and stiff leather cuirass of the Conqueror's guard, along with a pair of dark trousers. There was a knife at her waist—the only weapon small enough to be smuggled. Boiled leather bracers made her arms less feminine.

"How do I look?" She straightened one of her bracers, and flashed Perdicus a lop-sided smile.

"Like yourself," he assured her. "Only a little more fearsome." They both grinned.

Kyros, too, had dressed in uniform. If anything, Gabrielle thought he looked younger; but that was more to do with the newfound spark in his eyes than the clothing. He was tall enough, and the soldier's garb made his shoulders appear broader. So long as they were not halted, the two of them would look the part well enough under cover of darkness.

"It's now or never," Perdicus urged. Gabrielle gathered her shorn hair and stuffed into the empty sack, which she then hid amongst Kyros' bedcovers. They locked the door on their way out, leaving the guard imprisoned in his own ward. When someone came to deliver the morning meal, they'd find him alive. By then, Gabrielle and Kyros would be well away.

Perdicus promised to see them outside the building—from there it was as simple as walking out of the gate with a purpose. "It might help to swagger a little," he offered. "You know, act like… well, act like you belong." In the shadow of the eastern wall, they said their farewells.

"Here." Perdicus pressed a leather pouch into Gabrielle's reluctant fingers. "There are enough dinars there to last you a while, if you're careful with them, for food and lodging on the road. There's a stable just ahead of the city gate, with two horses waiting for you."

"Thank you," Gabrielle whispered, tucking the moneybag into her belt. "For everything you've done. I know it's an awful risk."

"It was no more trouble than stealing those honeycakes at the spring festival," he joked, and they both smiled. And then before she could say anything he was leaning closer, his lips looming toward her. Comprehension dawned on her, and Gabrielle preempted the kiss by darted forward and pressing her lips against his cheek. Perdicus looked confused for a moment, perhaps even little disappointed. Gabrielle smiled sadly. He was a good friend to her, but he could never be anything more.

"Take care of yourself, Perdicus."

"And you, Gabrielle."

And then he was gone, slipping back into the keep, leaving the two escapees to their work.

"Come on," Gabrielle whispered, and Kyros fell into step behind her. There was a dark figure moving in the practice yard—someone drilling, it appeared. Strange, that a man should be practicing with his blade at this time of night, rather than sleeping or indulging in some good wine. Her heart beat a little faster, but Gabrielle kept walking, remembering Perdicus' words. _Act as if you belong._

They were across the yard now, and almost to the gate, when the voice cut through the darkness.

"Halt, soldiers."

Gabrielle's heart seemed to freeze in her chest, and her breath caught. Slowly, she pivoted, facing that dark, distant figure. And though she could hardly see for lack of a moon, she felt her eyes connect with the luminous blue irises of the Conqueror.

For a moment all was silent, save for the roar of her own blood pounding in her ears. Then she heard her name on Xena's lips; a soft, almost pained whisper.

It was too much.

Gripping Kyros by the arm, she turned and fled into the night.

* * *

**I know, I know, where's the X & G love? I left you hanging. But don't be too mad! This is part I, and I'm already scheming away on part II. You might even say that this is only the set-up. I might take a wee break before writing it, take some time to read and review other stories that I've been neglecting. But it's on it's way :) Thank you guys for commenting and reviewing and generally being awesome readers! Your encouragement has meant so much to me! You're the greatest.**


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